


Flufftember #18

by adrianna_m_scovill



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Declarations Of Love, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hangover, Making Up, Morning After
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:09:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26818618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrianna_m_scovill/pseuds/adrianna_m_scovill
Summary: Flufftember prompts:Barson - hurt/comfort & cuddling, and making up & declarations. This was supposed to be two separate fics but I combined the pairs of prompts...
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Olivia Benson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 101
Collections: Flufftember 2020





	Flufftember #18

“You look terrible.”

“Thanks,” he answered, pushing the door wider and turning away from her. “As long as you keep your voice close to a whisper I’m pretty sure my head won’t actually explode.”

She walked into the apartment and closed the door with a quiet click. “Are you sick?”

“Mm.” He went into the kitchen to refill his glass of water, which he’d been on his way to do before being sidetracked by her knock. “The word _sick_ might absolve me of a little too much responsibility.”

“Hungover.”

“Ding ding,” he said, grimacing as he turned to face her. He sipped at the water, regarding her with red-rimmed eyes. 

“You weren’t drunk enough to be this bad.”

“Things sort of took a turn after you left.”

It was her turn to grimace, and she glanced around his apartment with uncharacteristic discomfort. “You said you weren’t upset.”

“I wasn’t upset about what happened.”

“I mean about me leaving.”

“What did you want me to do? Beg you to stay?”

“I thought we both agreed—”

“With all due respect, Liv, I’ve been feeling spectacularly crappy and I don’t see that passing any time soon unless I break out another bottle of scotch, so is there a reason for this visit?”

“You’re angry.”

He sighed. “No.” He started toward the sofa, carrying his glass of water. “But I’m out of aspirin and don’t have the energy to go buy any, and the longer I talk to you the worse my head hurts. No offense.” He sank onto his couch with a wince. He looked up at her when she walked over to stand near his leg. 

She didn’t look great, herself. They’d both had too much to drink, but the dark smudges beneath her eyes and pale hue of her skin didn’t compare to the shape he was in. She fished into her purse and pulled out a bottle of aspirin, handing it over without comment. 

He was too grateful to refuse the kindness, and he shook three pills into his hand and swallowed them with a gulp of water before setting his glass on the table. After she’d returned the bottle to her purse, she set the purse on the floor and sat carefully on the sofa beside him. He looked sideways at her, but that made his stomach churn and his head thud, so he turned to look at her directly. 

“I came to talk about it,” she said. She searched his face, noting his pale skin, his unshaven jaw, the lines that were deeper than usual. His hair was a mess, and he hadn’t bothered to change out of his sweats and t-shirt. 

“We can blame it on the alcohol,” he offered, unsure what she wanted him to say. He was normally a pretty good judge of that sort of thing, but his brain was struggling.

“You and I both know it never would’ve happened if either of us thought the other wasn’t sober enough…” She trailed off. “It can wait until you’re feeling better. Do you want me to fix you something to eat?”

“God, no,” he said, making a face. His stomach turned at the thought of food. She smiled sympathetically, but he knew she was likely going to tell him that he needed to eat, so he added: “I actually choked down some crackers and broth earlier. Not exactly the hearty meal recommended, but…” He shrugged a shoulder. “Anyway, I’m not sure we need to beat a dead horse, you know? It is what it is.”

“It is what it is?”

“You know what I mean. We got swept up in the moment. To be honest, I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner. I don’t have any regrets. I hope you don’t, either?”

“No,” she said quietly. They looked at each other for a few moments, each remembering the way it had felt to finally give in and allow themself to taste, to touch, to love.

Or, maybe he’d imagined that last part. “So it doesn’t have to be a big deal. It might shock you to know, I don’t have many friends,” he said, earning himself a soft, affectionate smile from her. “The last thing in the world I want to do is risk losing the one person who’s always…” He cleared his throat, alarmed by the sudden lump of emotion. “Well. You know.”

She laid her hand on his arm. “That will never happen.”

“No?” he asked, eying her. “Because you seemed pretty eager to get out of here last night.”

“You seemed less than thrilled about the possibility of me staying.”

His eyebrows went up. “How did I—”

“Which is fine, Rafael,” she said, rubbing his arm. “It’s understandable. You’re used to living alone, and you’re under no obligation to—” 

“Are you saying it’s my fault that you ran out of here like the Hounds of Hell were on your heels?”

“That’s a little dramatic,” she said. “And I’m not saying it’s anyone’s fault. It was unexpected, and it seemed like maybe we needed to step back and take a breath, evaluate what happened.”

“Evaluate what happened,” he repeated. “I think I was upset, you felt sorry for me, decided to fuck me out of pity—”

“Alright,” she said, pulling her hand back. “I think it’s best I come back another time.” She started to get to her feet and he grabbed the hem of her shirt to stop her.

“Wait, I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

She sank slowly back onto the cushion, looking at him. “It felt awkward,” she admitted quietly. 

“I thought we—” He stopped and looked away, swallowing. “I thought we connected pretty well,” he said after a moment, grimacing at his own choice of words.

She touched his leg. “I don’t mean that,” she murmured. “I mean afterward. Neither of us knew what to say, what to do. And you disappeared into the bathroom, I thought it would be easier if we had some time alone to process. You’re the best friend I have, too, Rafael, you think I wanted to jeopardize that?”

“I got you a change of clothes.”

She hesitated. “What?”

“I didn’t know if you’d be comfortable sleeping with nothing on, and you couldn’t sleep in your clothes. I got clean pajamas from the laundry. But when I got back, you were already getting dressed.”

“You wanted me to stay.” She spoke softly, and it wasn’t a question. 

He answered anyway. “Jesus, Liv, of _course_ I wanted you to stay. I thought...I don’t know, I thought we were on the same page. But if I misread the situation then it’s fine, I can live with that.” He paused. “If my liver forgives me for my self-pity trip to the bottom of a bottle,” he added in a small attempt to lighten the mood.

“I panicked,” she admitted.

He cocked an eyebrow. “Olivia Benson never panics.”

“Well, I did. And to be honest, I’m still feeling it, because it feels like there’s a whole lot to lose here, Rafa. Too much to lose.”

He considered that, studying her. “I’d hate to think of either of us as cowards.”

She laughed, surprising him by leaning into his side and kissing his shoulder. “You’re right. I should’ve stayed and talked to you about what I was feeling.”

“I could’ve told you I wanted you to stay.”

She shifted, drawing her legs up onto the sofa and laying her head against his shoulder, and after a moment he lifted his arm to settle it around her. She snuggled against his side, her cheek coming to rest high on his chest, and Barba felt some of the tension ease from his stomach. The sour alcohol continued to churn, but it was less important.

“Right now I only have a couple of hours,” she said. “I can stay until you start to feel better, and we can talk later.”

“Hm.” He kissed her hair, closing his eyes as he drew a slow breath through his nose. He gathered his courage, knowing he needed to say the words he should’ve said the night before. If he had to live the rest of his life as nothing more than her friend, he could do that. But he couldn’t be dishonest. “I am very much in love with you, Liv,” he said quietly.

She laid her hand against his stomach. “We’ve been on the same page for while, I think,” she answered, barely above a whisper. “And last night…” She pressed closer, her hand curling into his shirt as though she were afraid of space between them. “Last night meant everything,” she said.

He smiled into her hair, letting her weight and warmth soothe him as he waited for the aspirin to do its job. _Everything_. He could live with that, too.


End file.
